Before the sun arose, however, they were up and in the open air; but Zed groaned heavily, more than once, as they went along towards the Trent bank, for his aged bones were very stiff at the joints, as he said, and he often called himself a fool, inwardly, as he thought of his wild, money-digging freak of the preceding night. His melancholy, however, was but transitory. The merry-hearted old men were soon on their favourite element; the sun began to throw its cheering beams once more upon the rippling waters; and, as the willows on the banks of the noble Trent waved in the gentle breeze, and the rich meadows on the border of the river sent forth their reviving fragrance, Zed lifted up his head, while his hand plied the oar, and in the fulness of a happy heart thus opened the conversation for the day:— "Well, I wouldn't change places with the king on his throne, Phil; I don't believe there's a happier pair than you and I, Phil, in the wide world. And yet, now, as wild a scheme as that was of mine last night, I cannot help wishing, this morning, that we had some o' that gold at this moment. I could like to try my hand, Phil, as old and inexperienced as it is in such work, at making some part of the world happier." "And so could I, Zed," said Phil; "and now don't you think that my godmother's grandfather's plan of dividing the land would be a good one, and tend to make the world happier, if it were carried into effect?" "The deuce is in you, Phil, for always bringing up that plan of your godmother's grandfather!" said old Zed; "why, the plan may be good enough, Phil; but how can it be brought about?" "How can you get the gold?" retorted Phil. "Good!" said Zed, with a hearty laugh; "i'faith, Phil, one scheme is as likely to be brought about as the other: but, take hold of that end o' the net, Phil, for I see a famous pike or two, darting about; and, you know, we must try to get something to-day." The net was thrown out, but failed; and, what was most unusual, the labour of Zed and Phil was continued for several hours without the capture even of a solitary eel. Phil often thought Zed threw out the net very wildly, and imagined the liquor he took at the wedding had not yet spent its effects on him; but the blind man could not be sure, for Zed seemed resolutely taciturn. 'Twas about ten in the forenoon that Phil felt the little boat was "brought up,"—he thought in an inlet, or small creek, on the Lindsey side of the Trent, after they had laboured with nets and lines ever since a little after sunrise, and all without a single instance of success.—— "Phil, d'ye know why I've pulled in here this morning?" said Zed, as he was mooring the skiff. "No, by'r leddy!" answered the old-fashioned fiddler, "I can't tell, for the life of me! but it seems to me that you've pulled in at Burton Folly,—have you not, Zed? and what's the meaning of it?"